S'more Drabbles
by MykEsprit
Summary: Drabbles and one-shots including Harry Potter, MCEU, and other fandoms.
1. Table

**Chapter 1:** Table of Contents

 **Chapter 2:** Familiar (Steve Rogers & Minerva McGonagall)

 **Chapter 3:** Recovery Team (Steve Rogers/Pansy Parkinson)

 **Chapter 4:** Dirty Little Secret (Drarry)


	2. Familiar (Gen)

**Disclaimer: The Harry Potter universe and all its lovely characters are not mine.**

 **Main Characters: Steve Rogers, Minerva McGonagall**

 **Pairing: None**

 **Genre: Action**

 **Rating: T**

 **Familiar**

In that instant, as pained shouting pierced the cold air and the ground rumbled from nearby explosions, everything became clearer. It wasn't a moment of epiphany, although with one's mortality so threatened during the battle, a moment of introspection wouldn't have been unforgivable.

No – as Minerva McGonagall peered over the rims of her spectacles, her vision became sharper. Too sharp, and for a second, she questioned if, with her magic blazing intensely while she fought, she hadn't accidentally transfigured her eyes into a predator's. She curled her fingers into her palms, power surging through her muscles beyond what could be explained by adrenalin. It was a familiar feeling, but one that she hadn't felt since –

She saw the wall of the castle collapse before the blast hit her eardrums. Beyond what was once solid stone – now blown into chunks of dangerous projectiles – bodies flew from the force of impact. Students, she realized as fear gripped her chest. Weasley boys. Miss Granger. _Potter_.

Minerva started running over to them before they even hit the ground. She had been headed in Potter's direction, intent on ensuring that the boy – their Savior – would be all right when she spied a large section of the wall about to fall on a red-headed figure. Her feet veered off course, and she caught the heavy slab as the boy landed at her feet, right where the wall would have dropped.

"Prof – Professor?" said Fred Weasley, his eyes wide as he stared up at her from the ground. She heaved the block of stone away. Fred propped his upper body up on his elbows, his brown eyes twinkling and a bright grin forming on his dust-covered face. "My hero."

"Do be more careful, Mister Weasley," she said. Ron and Percy joined them, the elder helping his fallen brother to his feet.

Harry Potter reached them moments later, his hands clasped in Hermione's as they both tottered over the debris. They had scratches on their skin – Potter sported a gash on his cheek, actively bleeding. She was about to raise her wand to spell a quick _Episkey_ , but the strength she felt lingering in her limbs told her that her magic had not yet returned.

"All right, Mister Potter?" she asked, instead.

He nodded once, the knot of muscles under each ear briefly convulsing. For the millionth time, her heart twisted in pity at his circumstances. Her long-buried maternal instinct urged her to wrap the orphan boy in her arms and take him away from all this danger.

It wasn't what he needed, though. Not right now, not when his friends and classmates were all over the grounds, trying – struggling, injured, dying, but still _trying_ – to thin out the mass of Death Eaters that swarmed the castle.

She placed a firm hand on his shoulder and met his eyes squarely. "Let's not stand around all night, then."

ooOOoo

Deep inside an Arctic glacier, where the ice laid untouched by the outside world – and further, further down – Steve Rogers opened his eyes.

At least, he thought he did. He blinked to make sure, the effort to close and lift his eyelids already depleting his low energy. Yes, his eyes were open; he was just surrounded by absolute darkness.

He felt weaker than he had ever been his entire life. Although, something was different – yet strangely familiar, a sensation he hadn't felt since youth. It was a tingling beneath the surface of his skin, a tickle and hum of electricity that ran over his entire body.

Magic.

Before he could remember how to harness it, the sensation drained away, as if someone flipped a switch. Without the magic, he was being dragged back into the depths of unconsciousness.

"No," he whispered before succumbing to sleep.

He couldn't have known that would be the last word he would say for several more years in the ice.

ooOOoo

"Are you all right, Minerva?"

Her eyes flicked up to Hermione, who gazed at her with concern.

"Oh – yes, Professor Granger." She leaned on the back of her leather chair and pressed her palms on the surface of the desk, fanning her fingers out.

It was happening again. She felt the magic leave her body, replaced by the surge of vigor in every muscle fiber. It started a few months ago, the occurrences increasing in frequency over the last week.

It could only mean one thing, but she didn't want to get her hopes up.

"Are you sure?" Hermione prodded. She leaned forward in her seat and placed her teacup on the desk. "You look out of sorts."

Minerva nodded. "I've just been feeling a bit –"

"Excuse me, Headmistress." Amrose Swott interrupted from his canvas. "I've just come from visiting the portraits in the entrance hall. There seems to be…an intruder in the castle."

"An intruder?" Hermione asked, looking perplexed. "How is that possible? Our magic is keyed in to the wards. If they don't recognize a person's magical signature, they wouldn't be able to gain access to the grounds."

Minerva turned to the oil-painted man. "Will you please access the wards? Can it identify who is down in the entrance hall?"

For a brief pause, Swott angled his head, as if to listen to a far-off noise. "Strange." His wrinkles became more prominent as confusion came over his face. "According to the wards, the person downstairs is _you_ , Headmistress."

She gasped, her hand involuntarily flying up to cover her mouth. Quick footsteps approached her side.

"Merlin, you're as pale as a ghost," Hermione murmured. "That's it, I'm taking you to Madame Pomfrey — I'll send for Filius to check the entrance hall –"

"No!" She jumped up and sped out of her office. Hermione followed close behind.

"What's going on?! Minerva – _Headmistress_ – "

They reached the top landing of the grand staircase, looking down at the hall that housed the giant, ornate front doors. Among the shadows of the pillars, a tall figure stood.

Minerva ran down as the man stepped into the light. Sandy blonde hair and bright blue eyes, just like his father but, his smile – _that_ he inherited from his mother. The sight of it, after all these years, made her heart wrench with sorrow and joy at the same time.

It was a McGonagall's smile. It illuminated his face as he greeted her.

"Hi, Grandma."

 **A/N: Thanks for reading! This was written for the Roll-A-Drabble Challenge (May 2018), hosted by Marvelously Magical Fanfiction.**

 **Prompt: Steve & Minerva, Superpower/Magic Swap**

 **Want me to expand this story? Let me know in a review!**


	3. Recovery Team (Steve x Pansy)

**Disclaimer: Marvel and Harry Potter characters do not belong to me!**

 **A/N: Written for Marvelously Magical Fanfiction's Roll-A-Drabble (August 2018).**

 **Prompt: Steve Rogers/Pansy Parkinson/Time Travel**

 **This is a bit of a cheat when it comes to the trope...I wrote another piece with** **actual time travel, but I liked this one much better!**

* * *

 **Recovery Team**

* * *

"I need your help."

He was beaten leather and cold metal and scuffed work boots. He should have looked out of place in her drawing room, with its white furnishings and porcelain figurines and crystal chandelier. As he stood in the middle of the room, however, he looked like he belonged there.

More accurately, the room belonged to _him_ ; for whenever Steve Rogers entered a room, he took command of it.

"Hello, good evening," she said nonchalantly. She sauntered past him to the sideboard, where decanters of brandy and whisky were displayed. "How are you? I'm well, thank you, as good as anyone can be after being left without a word or even a bloody _note_."

As she poured herself a much-needed drink, Steve approached her. He moved without a sound, but she had developed a knack for determining his presence.

"Pansy," he said, "I'm sorry I left without saying goodbye. There was an emergency—"

Her eyes rolled upward as she faced him. "Isn't there always?" She knocked the drink back and slammed the crystal on the wooden surface.

Steve took a careful step forward. "You know I wouldn't have left if I didn't need to."

"Of course," she hissed. Her eyes pricked with hot tears; she took a deep breath, willing her emotions to calm down.

He moved another step closer and laid a gentle hand on her forearm. "There was this monster named Thanos—"

"—that you had to stop," Pansy finished for him. "The world was in danger. Lives depended on it. You had no choice." She pulled away and folded her arms over her chest. "I'm not begrudging you your hero status, Steve. I just wish you'd said something before you left," she said, bitterness coloring her tone. "I had _no idea_ what happened to you! I thought the authorities had caught you, and you were locked up in some secret government facility! I went to the Muggle world and searched for you for Merlin knows how long. It wasn't until I saw you on one of those bloody tellies that I knew you were still running free!"

Silence lay thick between them. He was a person of few words, and she, of fewer still. It was one of the many reasons why they just _worked_.

Steve gazed at her, his blue eyes repentant. There were other emotions that rumbled just under the surface—

Weariness. He had probably been going nonstop since he had left her—asleep and naked in bed after a long, passionate night—to answer that call, the one that had been urgent enough that he didn't say goodbye.

Loss. When they first met, he was already broken by the dismantling of his team and the destruction of his hard-won friendships. This time was worse, though; his mournful expression made her heart thud with apprehension.

Last, but not least—desperation. The reason he was there now, standing in her house with his hands folded behind his back and feet planted shoulder-distance apart—a soldier waiting for his next command.

She took a deep breath and released a long sigh, heavy with irritation and rage and pettiness. Those emotions won't serve her—not right now.

As he said, he needed her, and she needed him, too.

"What is it, Steve?" she asked. "What do you want from me?"

The tension in his shoulders eased infinitesimally. "They're gone, Pans." His eyes held such misery that she tore her gaze away. "Sam, Wanda, Vision…Bucky," he croaked. "Thanos got hold of the Infinity Stones and snapped away half of the population."

"I know," she whispered. Tears fell unchecked down her cheeks. "My sister—I held her in my arms as she—"

Steve closed the distance between them. He wrapped her up in an embrace.

Pansy laid her cheek against his broad chest. "There's chaos and panic in my world, too. Granger, Potter—our leaders are gone, and no one knows what to do."

"We get them back," Steve said.

She leaned away from him. "How?" she asked, peering into his eyes.

"Mind, Soul, Time, Reality, Space, and Power. The six Infinity Stones. They're powerful cosmic gems, but I believe," he said, his hands running up her arms and settling on her shoulders, "I believe your world—your _people_ possess the power to defeat Thanos."

Her breath hitched as her mind followed the path of his logic.

"Aren't your people capable of control minds and souls? Teleporting? Transforming?" Briefly, his grip tightened. "Don't you have the ability to manipulate time itself?"

"Some of us," she whispered.

He nodded. "We need to find them."

"And, then?" Excitement and fear battled in her chest, making her heart race.

"Then, we take the fight to Thanos," Steve said. "And we get our people _back_."

* * *

It took five minutes for him to answer the front door. His blond hair stuck out in different directions; under his light grey eyes were dark grey circles.

"What do you want?" Draco Malfoy asked, glancing at Steve with wariness. "Who the fuck are you?"

"Draco," Pansy said as she shoved her way past him and stalked into his private study. "Where is it?"

"What the hell are you talking about, Parkinson?" Draco asked, hurrying after her with Steve close behind.

She turned her full attention to her longtime friend. "We need the Time Turner."

Draco's lips pursed. He folded his arms across his rumpled white shirt. "I don't know what you're talking about—"

"Quit fucking around, Draco!" She waved her wand, searching for wards and concealment spells. "I know it's here! Tell me where it is—"

" _Why_?!" Draco raked his fingers through his hair. "What are you going to do with it—"

"I'm going to get them back, you idiot!" Pansy said, slamming a fist on the mahogany desk. "My sister, your wife, and child, and every fucking person that disappeared—we can get them back!"

Draco shook his head, disbelief painted on his face. Steve put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "We're putting together a team," he said, his voice firm and even and controlled. "Gathering people who can help us take on Thanos and his Infinity Stones."

"We _need_ the Time Turner, Draco," Pansy said. "Thanos can manipulate time—we need a weapon to counter him."

"You really think we can get them back?" Draco whispered. His features contorted, as though he was fighting off _hope_.

She nodded.

Draco took a deep breath. He marched to the bookshelves behind his desk and released a charm. A wooden box appeared; he pulled out a tarnished pendant. "What now?" he asked.

Pansy and Steve shared a glance.

Steve squared his shoulders. "You know anyone who can read minds?"

* * *

 **A/N: I hope you liked it enough to forgive me for not having actual time travel in this piece! :)**


	4. Dirty Little Secret (Drarry)

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling.**

 **A/N: Written for New Year, New You, hosted by Platform 9 3/4. It won the Fanfiction Favorite - Gryffindor Award and the Slytherdor Award.**

 **Pairing: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter**

 **Rating: T**

 **Genre: Romance**

* * *

 **Dirty Little Secret**

* * *

The conversation flowed almost as freely as the wine. There were enough people in the ballroom that boisterous conversation and laughter should have merged together in a cacophonous din, but snippets floated above the noise.

"—much better representatives in the Wizengamot now—"

"—believe the nerve of her?! What a—"

"—I know that they're putting an addition to the grounds—"

They stood in the middle of it all—one fair-haired, speaking in hushed tones that held the attention of their peers; the other his diametrical opposite, dark-haired and brooding.

"—Don't you agree, Potter?" asked Draco, trying to draw him into the group.

Green eyes snapped up, narrowed in concentration as if trying to pull the last few exchanges from his subconscious. Harry shook his head. "It might seem like that from a civilian perspective," he said carefully, "but the Aurors have a relatively small funding compared to other departments in the Ministry—"

A dry simper. "That conversation was over five minutes ago, Potter." Daphne tapped a heel-clad foot impatiently.

The blond gave him an exasperated stare.

Harry sighed, his gaze darting around the room, searching for a life preserver in the sea of near-strangers. He spotted a flash of auburn across the room. "I beg your pardon," he rushed. "I just spotted some friends I've been needing to talk to." He hurried away without making eye contact with his companion. As a result, he missed the steely-eyed glare directed at his retreating back.

"Are you all right, Draco?" asked Pansy as she sidled next to him.

"Yes." Draco watched as Harry tapped on the freckle-dusted shoulder of a petite brunette, who turned around and offered him a brilliant smile. He was quickly engulfed in a group of lanky redheads. With a sigh, Draco glanced at Pansy at the corner of his eye. "Sorry, where were we?"

She pulled him away from their small circle, citing a desperate need for another glass of champagne. When they were well away from prying guests, she whispered, "He's still doing it, then?"

"He wants nothing to do with me and mine," he answered morosely.

"Maybe if you didn't tuck him away like your dirty little secret…"

Draco shrugged. "We both agreed to keep it a secret."

Pansy snorted, hitting his shoulder with a bejeweled hand. "Well, as long as it's working out for the both of you," she quipped with a shrewd look. "I'm sure all new relationships survive when they're squirreled away."

He smothered the urge to bury his face in his hands. "I think…" he mumbled. "I think it's time." With a grumble, Draco stalked to where Harry spoke animatedly with his friends and grabbed his elbow. "Potter," he hissed in his ear.

Harry's smile froze. "What do you want, Malfoy?"

Draco released a quiet sigh. His fingers loosened, but he kept a hold on the angle of Harry's elbow. Keeping his gaze on Harry, he tilted his chin towards the crowd in the middle of the room. "Dance with me, Potter." Giving him a lopsided grin, he added, "Please."

Harry's jaw dropped. His eyes flitted to his friends, who gaped at them wordlessly. Leaning forward, he asked, "Are you sure? What about your father? Or work?"

Draco slid his hand down Harry's arm, threading their fingers together. Slowly, he tugged him to the center of the room. As people noticed their presence—together—they cleared the dance floor. "They can all hang for all I care," said Draco. "Your place is by my side, and I want you to feel like you're always welcome."

With a growing smile, Harry stepped closer, wrapping an arm around Draco's waist. "Thank you," he murmured.

Draco pulled him close and grazed a kiss on the corner of his lips.

* * *

 **A/N: Thanks for reading! Reviews are appreciated!**


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